


Crippling Dibpression

by Karkalicious_Definition



Series: Slightly to the Left [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: AU, Depression, Gen, Good Dad Membrane, It Is A Mystery OwO, Random Ghosts - Freeform, Slightly to the Left, Timeline Skipping I Guess, What The Fuck Is Going On In This AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:19:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karkalicious_Definition/pseuds/Karkalicious_Definition
Summary: Dib is depressed. Establishing important events in the AU. I know how it looks but you're just going to have to take a chance okay
Relationships: Generic Familial Relationships, Membrane Family - Relationship, ZADF - Relationship, idk
Series: Slightly to the Left [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980950
Comments: 44
Kudos: 60





	1. Prologue

"Membrane labs has released a statement confirming that the "Florpus" incident was a mass hallucination, caused by some scientific hellawhack shiznack that I don't understand and you don't really want to hear," said the news anchor.

"Are you SERIOUS?" exclaimed Dib.

"And now the weather!" continued the anchor, oblivious.

Dib gaped at the computer, as if waiting for the anchor to say something like "just kidding" and transition into a discussion of the alien threat. None of that happened, obviously.

"Are you serious?" he repeated.

There was no answer. Apparently they were.

Dib raked a hand through his hair.

 _"You dream about stopping Zim, right?"_ A voice was ringing through his head, some remnant of a half-forgotten memory. _"About saving the Earth? Well I did. And guess what? No one cares."_

Dib shook his head furiously and stood up so hard that his chair rolled backwards away from him. "I'll PROVE them wrong," he said. "I just need enough evidence!"

 _"No one cares,"_ the voice repeated.

Dib let out a frustrated hissing noise and stood up, crossing over to his dresser. He began to furiously pack a bag. A camera. A spray bottle of water. This time. This time, for sure. And if they didn't care, he would make them. He would prove them all wrong.

 _"Son, you don't have to prove anything._ "

Dib hesitated, his hand hovering over his flashlight.

_"I'm always proud of you."_

Dib paused for a moment longer, then reached out and grabbed his flashlight in a decisive motion. He stood there in the middle of his room, gripping it so tight that his hand shook.

People saw what they wanted to see. They believed what they wanted to believe. Any evidence for or against their set perceptions was rendered inert every time.

"BUT I KNOW THE TRUTH! I KNOW WHAT'S REAL! I CAN PROVE IT TO THEM! I CAN TEACH THEM!" Dib shouted, ostensibly at the flashlight. The flashlight didn't respond.

_"I did. And guess what? No one cares."_

That couldn't be right. An alien, on earth. Real proof of a real alien. They would have to care.

 _The question is,_ asked a voice in the back of his head, _why do YOU?_

Dib swallowed. "Because it's what's true. It's important. They're all blind, and they don't even know that they are. They think they know what's real; I need to prove them wrong!"

_But why is that so important to you?_

Dib grit his teeth.

_Gaz knows the truth, but she doesn't seem to care._

He lowered the flashlight to his side so violently he might as well have been stabbing something.

_Are you really trying to prove them wrong about the world? Or just about you?_

"So WHAT?" Dib demanded. "Maybe it's both! So what, what's wrong with that?"

_Sssselfish...selfish, stupid boy...so vain, so hypocritical._

"What's wrong with THAT?" Dib repeated.

_It doesn't matter what you want. Whatever it is, you'll never get it. They'll never believe you._

"SHUT UP!" Dib shouted, pulling his shoulders up around his ears.

He looked up and was suddenly face to face with a poster board full of cryptids. His years of research now looked so childish, so pathetic. So useless. And for some reason it was too much to be borne.

With a roar of rage and shame, he hurled his flashlight into the cork board. It flew erratically from his hand and hit somewhere on the left. Papers bent beneath the impact and a few thumbtacks flew free, their contents fluttering to the desk.

Dib fell to his knees and stared at the carpet between his legs. He was vaguely aware of the tears blurring his vision, but he didn't really care.

_"Son, you don't have to prove anything. I'm always proud of you."_

His face scrunched up like a drawstring bag and he began to ugly cry, shoulders heaving as he swiped his fingers up underneath his glasses.

The door opened suddenly. Dib stopped crying with a hiccup and looked up.

Gaz stood before him in her pajamas with an expression of vague concern. "Dib?"

He scrambled to his feet. "Hi, Gaz," he said, trying to sound natural. His voice aimed high and ended up cracking in several different directions.

Gaz looked briefly around the room, then back at him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Dib stared at her blankly, then _yeeted_ his backpack off of his swivel chair with the speed of an Olympic athlete. The chair rolled a few inches and fell over. "I'm going to capture Zim," he said, and for the first time in his life the words sounded fake.

Gaz actually blinked at how fake it sounded. She scrutinized him carefully, taking in his fogged-up glasses and the wet streaks on his cheeks. The flashlight on the floor, and the disruptions on the cork board. After a long moment of deliberation, she spoke.

"It's past midnight, Dib."

"I know."

Gaz hesitated. When she spoke, her voice was softer than normal. Still harder than the average person, but softer for Gaz. "You should go to bed."

Dib swallowed hard. "Okay."

"Okay?" Gaz asked - in confirmation, not confusion.

"Okay," Dib repeated, nodding.

Gaz eyed him for a moment longer, then shut the door.

Dib stood there for a moment, wondering if he was going to cry again. When nothing happened, he turned mechanically and examined the fallen chair. He mechanically put down his backpack and set the chair upright. Then he slowly kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed, clothes and all.

He was tired. So tired. Zim could wait.

_"I'm always proud of you."_

...Zim could wait.


	2. Token Ghost-Hunting Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Establishment of dynamics.

THREE YEARS LATER

Dib crept into the house, the warped wooden floor creaking underneath his feet. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his pounding heartbeat. No matter how many times he did this, the sense of apprehension never quite went away.

He trod carefully over the ground floor, measuring every creak in the floorboards with scientific precision. The only sounds so far were the whisper of the wind through the broken bits of the house, moaning with an aimless, bitching malcontent.

He carefully opened several doors before finding the one he needed. The hinges were stiff and shrieked as he pulled it open. Flakes of rust fell onto the floor. Inside, old steps led downwards into pitch blackness.

Dib thought he could hear something breathing down there. It could have been his imagination, though.

The air inside was stagnant and dusty, slightly warmer than the rainy, chilled air in the rest of the house. He took another deep breath, steeling himself to enter. He was as ready as he'd ever be. But there was something else he had to do first.

"I know you're there, Zim," he said.

Silence.

"No you don't," said a familiar voice behind him.

Dib turned around and arched one eyebrow.

Zim was hanging upside-down from his PAK legs on the ceiling like an oversized daddy longlegs. His arms were crossed, and he was glaring at Dib with a scowl. "

That ceiling is probably really unstable," said Dib, frowning briefly at the wood above him.

"Oh, it is," said Zim, scowl fading into characteristic smugness. "But I've calculated the most structurally sound parts of this feeble human construct and distributed my weight across a large and fairly secure surface area. Basic physics, Dib." He did some fancy maneuvering and lowered himself onto the ground. "Not that I would expect one of your silly, smelly race to grasp such concepts."

"I...I literally was just making sure you knew the ceiling was whack."

"BASIC PHYSICS!" Zim crowed. He stepped up next to Dib and peered into the basement. "So. What are ya doing?"

"Eh, the usual. Some kids came down here, saw something freaky. Could be a ghost."

"And what makes the Dib so certain it is not simply a raccoon, or some similarly filthy earth creature?"

"I'm not." He pulled out his flashlight and turned it on.

"What if it's one of your cereal killers?"

Dib shrugged. "Honestly I'm pretty fucked in most of these scenarios."

"Except the raccoon one," said Zim helpfully.

"Except the raccoon one," Dib agreed. "Also, it's 'serial.'"

"LIES!" shouted Zim.

"Okay," Dib sighed. He gestured into the darkness with the flashlight. "You coming this time?"

Zim shrugged. "Eh. Maybe. I might sit and watch you flail around like a sad squiggly worm-baby first."

"Right. Well. You know the rules."

Zim nodded eagerly, but there was a glint in his eyes that Dib had come to distrust. They stared at each other for what must have been ten seconds, Dib looking steadily more suspicious as Zim feigned equally increasing innocence.

"What?" Zim finally asked, making it sound like the most suspicious word in existence.

"Alright, whatever," Dib sighed. He began to climb down the stairs.

Unlike most of the rest of the house, the stairs were concrete. This didn't stop them from being unstable, though - some were chipped and wobbling, and one was completely gone. About halfway down Dib turned back to look at Zim. The alien had moved to sit on the first step and was watching him descend with a shit-eating grin on his face. He waved when Dib met his gaze. Dib arched his eyebrows impassively and flashed him a peace sign before continuing into the darkness.

Zim put his hand down by his side again and leaned forward on his elbows to watch the show. He chuckled under his breath.

_ONE YEAR AGO_

_"Okay," said Dib, standing on Zim's doorstep. A bandage was wrapped around his head. "I drew up some ground rules."_

_"Eh?" asked Zim, but before he could elaborate Dib had shoved a notepad into his hands._

_"_ _What's this?" "_

_If you want to tag along on investigations, you have to follow these rules," said Dib, tapping the notepad significantly._

_"These are stupid," said Zim._

_"_ _You haven't even read them yet," said Dib._

_"But you wrote them!" said Zim. "So-"_

_"_ _Okay, LOOK," said Dib, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Think what you want, but I can't have you scaring me or breaking my stuff or messing up my photos while I'm trying to check out cryptids or whatever! It's really annoying!"_

 _"_ _Sounds like a you problem," said Zim._

_"Just do it."_

_"Or what?"_

_Dib pulled out a stack of photos. "Or I publish all these pictures of you without your disguise."_

_In his hand were twenty somewhat blurry pictures of Zim from various different angles, each time smiling broadly at the camera and making different hand signs._

_"How did you get those?" Zim demanded, pointing at them like they were an affront to nature._

_"_ _Gee, I dunno, maybe it helped that you JUMPED IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA EVERY TIME I TRIED TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THE GHOST?"_

 _"_ _Oh. Right." said Zim._

_"I WILL publish them."_

_"Do it, Dib-smell. No one will believe you!" Zim taunted._

_Dib sighed. He touched his hand to his head, then spread it out towards Zim. "...Just...just do it? Please?"_

_"_ _Yeah, sure, okay," said Zim, pulling the notepad into his PAK._

Dib moved methodically through the basement, his flashlight casting high-contrast shadows on the walls.

"Brick," said Zim.

At the same time, Dib's shin hit an errant cinderblock. The warning, however, allowed him to keep his balance and course-correct, bouncing briefly on one foot.

"Ha! Incompetent human. What would you do without me?"

"Shut up," said Dib. He was pretty sure that Zim wasn't actually there to mess with the investigation. Honestly, he looked like he was secretly planning something most of the time, regardless of whether or not it was true. And if it was, he could just kick his ass.

He turned and shone his flashlight over the walls, finding years of graffiti scrawled there. Initials in hearts, random curse words, messages proclaiming random people to be gay, etc. Dib lifted his camera and switched it on.

"You need to document the wall?" said Zim, swinging his legs.

"I've told you hundreds of times, I need to document EVERYTHING," said Dib. "Besides, you never know when you could be taking a picture of a ghost. There could always be something that I've missed."

"Perhaps I should document your massive head, then," said Zim.

"That doesn't even make any fucking sense," said Dib. He gave up on trying to take a picture one handed and stuck his flashlight in his mouth. The shutter clicked and he turned away from the wall, examining the photo. Satisfied, he let his camera fall back on his chest and took the flashlight out of his mouth, turning back to the wall.

Over all of the scratched and spray-painted lettering a message had appeared, written in dripping letters by an unseen fingertip. GO AWAY.

The moment Dib registered the words, his flashlight flickered and went out. An unnatural chill ran down his spine, like someone had breathed on the back of his neck. He blinked in the sudden darkness and heaved a sigh.

"Zim?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I still facing the wall?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Am I still facing the wall, Zim?"

"Yup."

"Cool," said Dib. He lifted his camera and took another picture. The flash briefly lit the room. "That's weird," he said, examining the photo.

"What's weird?" asked Zim.

"The letters are blue," said Dib.

"So what?"

"I dunno, usually ghosts write stuff on the walls in like, blood or whatever," said Dib. "Wonder what this stuff is." He stood in the dark for a moment, then crossed to the wall, left hand stretched out in front of him. It landed on the message, sticky and slimy under his palm. He scooped some of the substance off the wall and smelled it. Touched it briefly with his tongue.

"This is laundry detergent," he said.

"I don't care," said Zim.

Dib rubbed his hand off on his trench coat and looked around, squinting in the darkness. He began to advance forward, stretching out his feet on the floor in front of him carefully before each step.

"HA! Inferior human eyeballs," said Zim. "Do you know how ridiculous you look?"

"Do you smell that?" asked Dib, wrinkling his nose.

"Eh? Smell what?"

"Bleach."

Zim was silent for a moment. Then he crowed, "All I can smell is your HIDEOUS STENCH, pig-smelly."

"Right," said Dib. "Just checking."

Something suddenly lurched. A rhythmic thrum echoed through the basement, growing steadily louder.

Dib jumped and whirled in the direction of the noise. He squinted, praying for his eyes to adjust, breath catching in his throat-

"Oooooh," said Zim in an overly wavering tone, "what on earth could it beeeeeeee?"

Dib shot a glare in his general direction and began to shuffle his way towards the noise. It grew louder and faster the closer he got, and as his pupils expanded he began to make out the vague outline of a washing machine, running so violently that it looked as though it were about to fall apart.

Dib paused about five feet from it and took another picture. Let the camera fall to his chest. Swallowed hard. Inched closer...closer...

"Do it, pussy!" Zim shouted.

"I'm GETTING TO IT!" shouted Dib, whirling around to face Zim. He defiantly thrust his hand forward and all but slapped the top of the washing machine.

The second his hand made contact, it stopped.

The abrupt silence was almost worse than the noise. Dib waited for a moment, but nothing happened. "Huh," he said.

"Yeah, that was boring," said Zim.

"No kidding." Dib began to feel around the machine, examining the buttons, the chips in the paint. A quick flash photo of the back revealed that it wasn't plugged in. He stood up and scratched the back of his neck, then noticed the lid. He pried it open and peered inside-

A pair of wet, soapy hands reached out and grabbed him by the neck. Dib let out a strangled cry and dropped his useless flashlight. He grabbed the wrists, trying to pry them off. His fingers slipped on the cold, wet skin.

He could vaguely hear Zim laughing in the background.

The hands were pulling him into the washing machine with an inhuman amount of force. Effectively, too; he was tipping forward, his feet leaving the floor. He kicked, trying to brace his legs against the front of the machine, but his shoes glanced off the smooth surface. He started to tip in, pulled by pure gravity. He let go of the hands to brace himself on the door, pushing against the top of the washer. Two more hands shot out in retaliation, gripping his hair and the back of his neck and tugging hard.

Something in the washer let out a frustrated hiss. Dib cried out with effort and pushed harder.

A tense, shaking moment later, the hands slipped and gave. Dib all but flew off the washer. He took one stumbling step backward and landed on his ass.

"Holy shit," he whispered, rubbing the still-wet fingerprints on his neck. "Holy shit what the fuck..."

The washing machine door slammed shut on its own. It began to run again with a noise like an enraged roar.

"Okay," said Dib, scrambling to his feet, "let's go."

"No, stay!" said Zim. "Let the washy machine eat you! It was very entertaining!"

The washer was rocking back and forth now. Blood was leaking out from under the lid and running down the sides.

"Yeah, no thanks. Bye!" With a final wave Dib whirled around and ran to the stairs.

"You're no fun," said Zim, but turned to lead the way out.

The two tore out of the basement and through the ground floor - Zim moving naturally fast on PAK legs, Dib lagging behind and running for all he was worth. Behind them, something let out an enraged human scream.

Zim and Dib burst out the front door and ran down the front steps. They reached the sidewalk and whirled around to face the house. A moment later, the noises stopped.

Dib waited in the silence for a moment before sighing in relief.

"BOO!"

Dib shrieked like a five year old and jumped a foot in the air.

Zim howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. The metal, arachnid-like legs slipped back into his PAK.

Dib glared down at him. "I fucking hate you."

Zim stopped laughing and grinned maliciously at Dib. "WELL I HATE FUCKING YOU!"

Dib squinted at him. "No. No, that- that's not..." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"HA! No response!" Zim crowed. "Zim wins the battle of wits! VICTORY FOR ZIM!"

Dib opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. "Okay, sure."

Zim opened his mouth to say something else, then paused. Blinked. Squinted at Dib.

"Is your smelly brain slime transmitting today?"

"What?"

"Your SLIME! Your human happy sludge!"

"Can you be more precise-"

"Did you take your Prose-Ack today, Dib-smell?"

"You mean my antidepressants?"

Zim posed with a hand on his chest. "Zim's BRILLIANCE seems to be leaving you at a loss for words today, which is AS IT SHOULD BE! But it is not, eh...as ENTERTAINING when you are unpreturbed by the prospect of defeat."

Dib blinked. "Are you...worried about me?"

"ZIM DID NOT SAY THOSE WORDS."

"You'we wowwied? About widdwe owd meee?" crooned Dib, leaning into him.

He was much taller, so it took a while for his back to even arch low enough for him to bother Zim.

Zim pushed up against him like he was bench-pressing a sack of potatoes. "DISGUSTING! DO NOT TOUCH ZIM!"

Regardless, Dib kept at it until Zim forcibly threw him off. The resulting scuffle lasted for about thirty seconds before subsiding.

"No, I took my pills," said Dib eventually. "I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and, you know, I've been kind of distracted lately, and a ghost almost pulled me into a washing machine..."

Zim looked skeptical.

Dib trailed off. "Fuck, I'm FINE, Zim," he snapped. "Get off my dick!"

Zim grinned. "SATISFACTORY!" he shouted.

"Okay."

Zim hit Dib on the back of the head so hard that he fell into the pavement, then laughed. "REGARDLESS of the particulars of your brain mush maintenance, I expect you to be operating at FULL CAPACITY on Saturday!"

"Fucking...why?" asked Dib, rolling onto his side and rubbing his head. "What happens on Saturday?"

"YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE!" shouted Zim, pointing at him. "HAHA! Now you have FIVE DAYS to steep in apprehension! I will be the doom of you yet, Dib-Beast!"

"Don't count me out just yet," said Dib.

Zim grinned. He unsheathed his PAK legs and scuttled off down the street.

Dib watched him round the block, then stood up and dusted off his coat.

He was supposed to be fine.

He clenched and unclenched his fists once, quickly. Then he shook his head and started to walk home.

He'd been fine for a while now. Everything had been going great. What was the matter with him?

He'd missed two cycles at the crosswalk before he consciously realized that he'd stopped walking. He took a deep breath in and folded his arms across his chest, staring blankly at the signal light.

He was supposed to be fine. He was supposed to be BETTER. He was supposed to have come all this way...

Had any of that meant anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment I don't care if you comment on every chapter just please comment I love to read them


	3. I Wrote Dib's Depression Using Experience From My Own Depressive Episode So Y'all Had Better Be Grateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some exposition and family dynamics. No Zim in this one but you'd better get used to that OOF

TWO YEARS AGO

Dib lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Nothing was happening in his brain. But that was almost something in and of itself. The nothing was growing, expanding, eating away at the edges of his psyche. The nothing was filling him up and swallowing him whole. The nothing was everything, and everything else had become nothing.

Outside he could dimly hear an argument. Well. It was pretty one-sided. More like a lecture, delivered in the most deadly and terrifying voice he had ever heard from the speaker. And considering who it was, that was saying something. It was too far away for him to make everything out, but words and phrases jumped out at him.

"DO YOU EVEN...YOUR DUMB JOB?...MATTER TO YOU?"

Dib closed his eyes.

"...DIB...OUT OF BED...THREE WEEKS!...HASN'T...MONSTERS...DOESN'T EVEN FIGHT ZIM ANYMORE!"

Dib opened his eyes. A sliver of sunset had managed to get through the curtains Dib had drawn. The only indicator of what time it was. It persisted for about an inch before it was swallowed up by the darkness of the rest of the room.

"...NEVER LISTEN!...YOU'RE ALWAYS...TO HELP PEOPLE!...YOUR OWN KIDS?"

Dib squeezed his eyes shut. Dimly he wanted them to stop, but even this desire was muffled, barely pricking the back of his brain.

"HAVE ANY IDEA...US? HOW MUCH..." the shouting continued without any clear phrases until finally, ringing through the house clearer than anything before, "GO TO HELL!"

Almost immediately after, he heard thunderous footsteps up the stairs, followed by the loud slam of Gaz's bedroom door.

Dib heaved a sigh. His face itched, and he realized that he was crying. Weird, being able to cry without feeling anything. 

Something crashed through the window and landed on the floor. Dib didn't even flinch. The thing crawled up onto the bed and grabbed Dib's face.

"MARY!"

Gir, then.

"HE NEEDS YOU AGAIN, MARY! HE NEEDS YOU REAL BAD! HE'S NOT YELLIN' OR GETTIN' OFF THE COUCH OR DOIN' ANYTHING!"

Tough.

"YOU NEED TO COME BACK! SOMETHIN'S REAL WRONG!"

What did he expect Dib to do about it? He couldn't even make himself get out of bed.

"MARY!" Gir shouted. "MARY!"

Gir started to laugh. He laughed and laughed until it sounded almost like crying, and rolled off the bed to run around in circles on the floor. Then rockets fired off in his feet and he blasted out the window again.

Dib sat in the silence for a few long moments, then heaved a sigh.

The door creaked open. Surprised, Dib turned his head.

Professor Membrane stood in the doorway. He took a step into the room and looked around. He looked horribly uncomfortable and out of of place.

He took in the freshly broken window, but didn't say anything. Instead he crossed the room to sit on the bed. Dib felt the mattress dip under the new weight.

"Are you awake, son?"

Dib blinked. He glanced up at his father, who didn't seem to be looking at him.

"...yeah," Dib croaked. His voice was dim and husky from neglect.

Professor Membrane didn't say anything. He knit his fingers together. "When's the last time you ate?" he finally asked.

Dib didn't answer. Thankfully, Professor Membrane didn't seem to be listening for one. He already had an idea of the answer. He shifted carefuly on the bed.

"Your sister says I've been a poor father to you."

Dib stared intently at the wall.

"What do you think?"

What did he think? What could he even SAY? What are you supposed to say when your father asks you to rate his parenting? 3/10, would not recommend?

He was so deep in sluggish thought that he didn't even realize he hadn't answered until Professor Membrane sighed. "It's okay, son. You don't have to answer me."

Thank God.

"Gaz gave me an earful earlier. I don't know if you heard." he gave a rueful laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "That-that isn't to say that I'm mad about it...I wish she'd said something sooner-"

"Wishing isn't very scientific, Dad," said Dib.

The words, quick and bitter, took both of them by surprise.

"Well," said Professor Membrane. "Well."

Dib was definitely feeling something now, dimly, deep down. He couldn't decide if it was anger or guilt. Maybe it was something else entirely.

"Well. You know what IS scientific?" Professor Membrane said.

Oh no.

"Depression!"

Dib blinked. His brows contracted in the dark. What?

"It's fascinating, really, how neural transmitters can fail to fire...a slight chemical imbalance in the brain and the entire system is thrown off. There have been thousands of studies conducted on chronic depression - a failure of the brain to generate or recieve the chemicals necessary to percieve emotions-"

Dib bolted upright in bed.

Professor Membrane jumped.

"So THAT'S the problem?" he snapped. "I'm just CRAZY? I'm...I'm like this because my brain isn't working right? It's MY fault? Because I'm CRAZY?"

"What?"

After feeling nothing for so long, the rush of anger opened the way for everything else. Emotions burst through weeks of apathetic fog, surging, overflowing in his body. He burst into tears and pulled his blanket over his face, trying to hide.

Professor Membrane lifted his hands towards him, then stopped. Stammered. "Son, that's not what I meant at ALL! I just..." he paused for a second, staring helplessly at Dib.

" _AY PORQUE ESTO ES TAN DIFICIL?_ "

Dib looked up, his sobs stopping with a hiccup. He watched, stunned, as his father got up and began to pace furiously back and forth.

After a few moments, he tried to break the silence. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize," said Professor Membrane, holding up a hand. "I'm your father! I'm supposed to know what to do, what to say..." He sat down on Dib's bed again and pressed his hands together under his nose. After a moment he pointed his hands forward. "Son, you have to understand, you and Gaz are my first children. My only children. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"But I thought you knew everything," said Dib, a hint of dryness in his voice.

"Is that really what you think of me? What you think I think of myself?" Professor Membrane shook his head, then lifted a finger. "No. A good scientist always acknowledges the gaps in his own knowledge. Trial and error, son, that is the scientific method."

"Oy, vey," Dib sighed, then realized he had said it out loud.

His father glanced over. To Dib's surprise, he actually let out a little chuckle. "A perfect example," he said. "I have no clue how to talk to my children. Any children, really. Much less how to raise them."

"But you didn't raise us," said Dib.

"I didn't," said Professor Membrane, "because I didn't think you needed me. That was my biggest mistake."

"What was?"

"I didn't follow the scientific method. I never once tried to challenge my hypothesis."

"...Oh."

Professor Membrane looked away and played with his hands. "I am trying now, son," he said quietly. "For whatever it could possibly be worth at this point."

"I know, Dad."

Professor Membrane heaved a sigh. "And...about earlier. I didn't mean to...I wasn't trying to say that..."

"That I'm crazy?"

"That your problems are trivial," said Professor Membrane. "Nor was I trying to say that you're crazy - In fact, I think that the very concept of insanity is self-contradictory."

"What?" asked Dib.

"What is 'crazy,' really?" asked Professor Membrane. "Fundamentally, it is having a mind that does not behave as other minds - a perception of the world that does not match that of others. Now, look at all of history's great thinkers. What made them all so special? They were not bound by common perceptions of reality. Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Einstein, Tesla...what we call 'insanity' often goes hand in hand with genius. Or perhaps I should say that genius is often inextricably linked with disorder. Indeed, anxiety, depression, even psychosis can be the hallmarks of a brilliant mind."

Dib blinked.

"Of course, this is not always the case," said Professor Membrane, grabbing his chin through so many layers of lab wear. "There are many variables other than neurodiversity that can cause depressive symptoms, and neurodivergence does not always entail a high IQ-"

"Dad, wait."

Professor Membrane looked over.

Dib's mouth moved without words for a moment. "You think I'm a genius?" he finally managed.

Professor Membrane stared at him for a moment. "Son," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I know you're a genius."

"But-" Dib stammered.

"Now, I won't pretend to understand your...strange belief in the paranormal. BUT," said Professor Membrane, lifting a finger, "I have no doubt of your intelligence. You have proved yourself time and time again to be a quick and versatile thinker. Rest assured, though, son, that my regard for you does not hinge on your intelligence. Nor does my pride in you depend upon what you do with it. I must admit that I am disappointed that you won't be lending your talents to my particular field, but you have no obligation to take after me. I truly believe that you will excel in whatever it is you put your mind to - and whatever it is you choose to pursue, I am convinced that it will benefit greatly from your contributions."

Dib's mouth was hanging open.

"Why are you so surprised?" asked Professor Membrane. "Have I never told you this?"

"No!" Dib spluttered.

"Hm," said Professor Membrane. "Another failure on my part. It would seem that your sister was right." He paused. "I'm sorry."

"It...it's okay, Dad."

Professor Membrane took a deep breath, put his hands on his knees, and stood up. "Well...worry not, son! I'm sure that we can find a way to get you through this. Whatever it is that you need."

"Thanks, Dad," said Dib.

"In the meantime," said Professor Membrane, glancing around the room.

Dib braced himself for the inevitable TED talk about the scientific benefits of a clean room, but his dad seemed to stop himself. Instead he looked at Dib again. "You should get up and dressed."

"...it's seven at night."

"And?"

"Isn't it kind of late to be getting up now?"

"Nonsense! We need to re-establish your circadian rhythm! That will be an important step in improving your mental health. Also, um..."

Dib waited.

"You need to shower," said Professor Membrane. Then he left the room, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Dib sat there for a moment longer, trying to process what had just happened. Had that...gone well? It felt like it had. Maybe...

He looked over at his glasses, sitting on the nightstand. After a moment, he grabbed them and climbed out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my favorite little man Jay for helping me with the single line of Spanish that I have in here because I'm VERY ignorant  
> And warn him that he's gonna have a LOT to do pretty soon OOF
> 
> My headcanon is that Spanish is Professor Membrane's first language - and while his kids know Spanish, English comes much more naturally to them. Which would be cool but I do not speak Spanish like at all. So any of y'all spicy spanish bitches out there can offer constructive criticism at any time lmao
> 
> Also please comment


	4. *Sprinkles AU Lore Like Salt Bae*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shenanigans, au background, and a timeskip

TWO YEARS AFTER THE LAST CHAPTER, SO LIKE, PRESENT DAY I GUESS

YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT

Dib studied the photos he had taken at the house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in any of them. Another waste of film. And time.

And his fucking life.

He blinked. Goddamn, the self-loathing commentary in his head was being really obvious today. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he needed a break.

But was his sudden exhaustion another depressive symptom? Did he normally get tired so quickly? He couldn't seem to remember...

He picked up the pictures again.

Then again, obsessing over the paranormal had shown itself in the past to go hand-in-hand with overall poor mental health. Was this bad for him?

He put down the pictures.

But then again, he genuinely enjoyed researching the paranormal. Wasn't a major symptom of depression no longer finding enjoyment in the things one typically enjoyed?

"Fuck this," said Dib, getting up. "Fuuuuuck thiiiiisss..."

He wandered into the living room, where Gaz was playing video games on the TV. "Hey," she said.

"Hi," said Dib. He rested his arms on the back of the couch to watch.

Gaz died in the game and let out a short burst of expletives. She hit continue. As she waited for the game to load, she glanced over her shoulder at Dib.

"What's up? You look depressed as hell," she said.

"AAAAAAAARGHHHH," said Dib, banging his head into the couch.

"What?" asked Gaz.

"NOTHING," Dib snapped, waving a dismissive hand as he walked into the kitchen.

He angrily opened the fridge, stared intently into it for a second, and shut it again. Then he crossed to a cupboard, opened it instead, and pulled out a bag of potato chips.

Stress eating...

"SHUT UP!" he said around his mouthful of chips.

"Zim said nothing!"

Dib turned around.

Zim was at the window, looking angry.

"Oh, it's you," said Dib, and ate another chip.

Zim looked at the chips and tilted his head. "Are you stress eating, Dib?"

Dib groaned and all but slammed his head into the table.

"Zim does not want to fight a fat and complacent Dib!" shouted Zim, climbing in through the window. He lifted his leg once, twice, three times before hooking it successfully on the sill and pulling himself in. "You grow greasy and useless!"

"You know, if you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working," said Dib. He threw back his head and dumped the rest of the chips into his mouth.

"Zim is NOT trying to make you feel better! Zim does not CARE how you feel! Zim merely wishes to...MOTIVATE you, that your inevitable defeat will be all the more bitter!"

"Yeah, well, if you're trying to 'motivate' me, then fat-shaming is not the way to go." Dib crumpled the empty bag in his hands. "Just makes you feel worse." He threw the chip bag across the room towards the trash can. It bounced off the side and landed on the floor.

"HA! No IRKEN would accept such petty insults as true!"

"That's not gonna work either."

"We...what?"

Dib shrugged. "Saying I'm thinking about it wrong. Not motivating. Just..." Dib waved his hand vaguely in the air. "Bleugh."

"Then what is Zim supposed to SAY?"

"Nothing," said Dib. "Leave." With that, he dragged himself out of his chair to throw away the chip bag properly.

When he turned around, Zim was standing right in front of him.

"What now?" he sighed.

Zim's teeth were bared. "This is NOT SATISFACTORY, DIB-BEAST. If you are in such a condition this weekend-"

"Get off my fucking case, Zim! I don't ask you about your reprogramming!"

An expression of pure rage twisted Zim's features, but for a split second Dib was surprised to see a bit of hurt. He'd hit a nerve.

"We AGREED NEVER TO SPEAK ABOUT THAT!" Zim shouted, unsheathing his PAK legs to sit eye level with Dib.

"You're right, I-" said Dib, taking a step back.

"And it was NOT a reprogramming! It was NOT! YOU of all people should know this!"

"You're RIGHT, Zim," said Dib. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. That was a low blow."

Zim squinted at him.

"I'm sorry," Dib repeated.

"Hmm," said Zim. "Very well." He collapsed his PAK legs to lower himself back to the floor. "Zim accepts your apology, feeble earth-monkey. But I still expect you to-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Dib, turning away.

Zim watched him go for a second, his mouth hanging open, one claw still in the air.

Dib bent over to rummage around in the fridge. He pulled out a can of soda and popped the tab.

Zim was squinting at him. After a moment, he opened his mouth and began to speak slowly. "So..." he said. He waved his hand around. "How are things progressing? With your..." he hissed quietly, a contemplative noise. "...ssstupid...laundry ghostie?"

Dib shrugged and leaned against the counter. "I dunno. I've been staring at the pictures for, like, half an hour. Can't find anything." He slurped his soda. "Can't concentrate," he added quietly.

"HA! Stupid human! No Irken would be so inefficient!"

Dib just sighed and took another drink of soda. Zim frowned and thought for a moment. "Well...If the ghosts were too dumb to show themselves in the pictures, then that is their problem!" He grinned. "Perhaps they are so ugly that they do not want to show their faces!"

"Nice save."

"SHUT UP! In any case, if you are not getting anywhere, then you should change your tactics!"

Dib arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Zim puffed up visibly. "You are CLEARLY not getting anywhere with your dumb studies." He clenched his hand into a fist, a sinister smile spreading over his face. "Instead of wasting your sad small store of human energy, you should go back and beat the DICK out of them!"

Dib snorted. "What? What is funny?"

"Nothing, just...you can't put random swear words wherever you want. They mean stuff, you know."

"SHUT YOUR BITCH, DIB-FUCK."

Dib choked on his soda and let out a short laugh.

Zim looked horribly offended. "And THIS is the thanks Zim gets for his advice! My brilliance is wasted on you, dirt-pig. WASTED!" he plunked himself down in a chair and crossed his arms.

"Fuck, SORry," said Dib.

Zim sniffed. "Zim's point remains. As we Irken say, uh...if you can't...if there isn't...um..."

"Take your time." "SILENCE! If there's...if you...when...when there is nothing...when you cannot...hmmm."

Dib sipped his soda.

"Ummm...OH! YES! YES!" Zim leapt up to stand on his chair. "IF YOU CANNOT USE SUBTERFUGE, JUST TAKE A COOL SPACE GUN AND BLOW IT INTO TINY PIECES!"

Dib blinked. "That's oddly specific."

Zim glared at Dib, still in his pose. "DO not question the wisdom of my people, insolent dirt-nugget!"

"I'm actually pretty sure you just made that up."

"LIES!"

"Okay," Dib sighed. He crumpled his empty soda can and tossed it into the trash.

"REGARDLESS!" shouted Zim, as if it were an accusation. "Are you inspired? Have the words of the mighty Zim given you the vigor necessary to defeat your beastie?"

"Sure," said Dib.

"EXCELLENT!" Zim shouted. 

"See ya," said Dib, turning away.

"YES! YOU GO TO DEFEAT THE CREATURE?"

"Nah, I'm gonna go watch conspiracy videos on YouTube."

Zim froze.

Dib was halfway up the stairs when Zim ran out of the kitchen to respond. "But-your pathetic basement creature! You're supposed to go blow it up!"

Dib rolled his eyes. "Look, maybe later, okay? I'm tired."

Zim's arms fell to his sides. "Uh, but-"

"LATER, Zim," said Dib firmly, then climbed the rest of the way up.

Zim was still staring up the stairs when he heard Dib's bedroom door swing shut.

\----------------------

ONE AND A HALF YEARS AGO

Dib ventured into his father's lab, tiptoeing carefully in like it was a minefield. A hard drive was clutched in his right hand.

As if aware of its thematic appropriateness, a muffled explosion came from deep within the bowels of the sterile white lab, followed by a string of coughs. Dib listened and began to maneuver towards the noise, eyeing various experiments as he went.

"Dad?" he asked as he entered the room.

"Ah, my boy child!" Professor Membrane exclaimed, turning to greet him. He waved smoke out of his face and stepped forward to greet him. "What is it?"

Dib rubbed his thumb on the hard drive hidden behind his back. "Um...I need your help with something."

Professor Membrane tilted his head.

"A, uh..." Dib sighed. "A science project?"

Professor Membrane blinked. Then beamed, in the hidden-faced way that only his children could recognize. "Of course, son, of course!" he exclaimed, putting a hand on Dib's back to usher him out of the smoky room. "Whatever you need! It's wonderful to see you feeling better and expressing interest-"

"Dad," said Dib.

"Right. Sorry," said Professor Membrane. "Tell me, what do you need help with?"

"Well, it, uh..." Dib fidgeted. "It's really complicated, see, it's like...um..." he took a deep breath. "I really just need to show you. Uh, do you have, like, a computer? Or, um, some interface I can plug this into?" he asked, holding up the hard drive.

Professor Membrane looked at the hard drive for a second. "Ah, yes," he said. "I really need to get you some better tools. Still, I think..." He looked around the lab, then plugged it into what appeared to be a fairly complicated countertop. The contents of the hard drive appeared on a large screen.

"Oh. Neat." Dib ventured forward and opened a folder titled with strange, angular symbols. The file loaded for a moment. Then the screen abruptly shut off and a hologram shone out of the countertop, hovering and glitching over the table. It showed an elliptical half-sphere with several large spots - an object that few people currently on earth could recognize as an Irken PAK.

Professor Membrane gazed at it in wonder, the translucent blue image reflecting on his goggles. He reached out to "touch" the projection and was surprised when it responded to his hand, turning and spinning as he interacted with the light. "Son," he said with awe. "What IS this?"

"This is a computer," said Dib. "A really complicated computer. Or, well, it's a model of it."

Professor Membrane was toggling with the simulation. With an experimental swipe of his hands, he opened the model to look inside. "Son, this is incredible," he said. He turned to Dib and pointed at the hologram. "Did you do this?"

Dib laughed nervously. "No. No. I didn't build it. I don't even know for sure how it works..."

"How on earth did you get a hold of something like this?" asked Professor Membrane, toggling with a holographic projection of a PAK leg.

"Um," said Dib, sweating. He racked his brain for some lie, but realized after a moment there was no need. His dad might as well have been on another planet right now. Dib simply remained silent for a few moments, then clapped his hands commandingly. "Right," he said. "Anyway, I need your help with it."

"What on earth is the matter with it?"

"That's part of the problem," said Dib. He reached for the projection, but the entire lab was scaled to someone of his dad's height. He heaved a sigh and grabbed a nearby chair, pulling it over to stand on top of it. With a few swift hand motions, he removed the outer shell and the PAK legs, revealing layers and layers of a labyrinthian network of wires.

" _Tan bonito..._ " Professor Membrane whispered, reaching for it.

"Wait," said Dib. "I gotta show you." He messed with the hologram in vain for a few moments, then paused. He bit his lip. "Computer?" he said hesitantly.

No response.

"Uh...play that recording. The one you said you took. If you can hear me."

If the fragment of programming that had come for a ride in Dib's hard drive was capable of responding, it chose not to. But a few moments later, the hologram spun, orienting itself towards its viewers. As Dib and his father watched, a glowing trail snaked down a wire in the middle of the PAK. It divided into several tributaries, lighting up various different processing units. Then all of a sudden lights began to burst out of different cores in a chain reaction, a miniature fireworks display going off in the PAK. Explosive trails of activity snaked back up to the source and zipped out through different exits. The recording ended with a frozen shot of light leaving the PAK.

"What was that?" asked Professor Membrane.

"That was a clip of a command going through the computer. And, um, not being processed right."

"Can you play it again?"

"Um, sure," said Dib. "Computer, can you play it again?"

This time a noise almost like a sigh came out from a speaker on the wall. But the recording played again. Light coming in, erratic activity, light going out.

Professor Membrane leaned in this time, squinting at the projection. "Is this...slowed down, by any chance?"

"Yeah," said Dib. "Pretty sure, anyway."

"Can it be slowed down more?"

Dib opened his mouth, but his dad cut him off. "Play it again, _por favor. Mas lento._ "

The sigh was distinctive and longer this time. The recording started again, this time about half as fast.

"Hm," said Professor Membrane. He leaned back. "Well, son, this computer is more complex than any I've ever seen. That burst of activity - there, you see? It looks almost like...well, like neuron activity. Like it's thinking."

"Oh, that's because it is," said Dib.

Professor Membrane looked at him. Dib shrunk a little. "Th-this computer," he said. "It's basically, uh...a brain."

"Fascinating," said Professor Membrane. He reached out and cupped the hologram again, turning it and zooming in on various parts. "...It isn't structured like a brain."

"Uh, that's because it's not on hi- the head," said Dib. "It goes on the back...like this, see?" He turned and mimed putting the object on his back.

"Aha!" said Professor Membrane. "So...play the recording?" the recording started. "Now pause." The footage stopped at a frozen frame of light snaking down a central wire. Professor Membrane pointed at the light. "So this is sensory input, isn't it? Travelling down the spinal cord."

"Yes," said Dib.

"I see...this is fascinating!" Professor Membrane looked ecstatic, like a kid in a candy store. "It's incredible! Can..." he turned to Dib with a look of hunger. "Can I take a look at the real one?"

Dib paused. "Uh...no. No you can't. It's not, uh, available."

"Pity," said Professor Membrane, but he'd already seemed to shift his train of thought. He zoomed in on the hologram and played with it some more, examining the interlock of the wires and analyzing them. "So this would be the equivalent of the frontal lobe," he muttered, pulling out a section of wiring.

"Dad?" said Dib.

Professor Membrane looked up.

Dib fidgeted and rocked on his heels. "Um...it's broken. Well, not BROKEN, broken, but it has a lot of issues. Bugs."

Professor Membrane stopped. "And this is the bugged version?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a model of it with the bugs."

Professor Membrane looked at it again. Back at Dib. "...Do you have a model of it without the bugs?"

"No," said Dib. "That's part of the problem. We need to find out what's wrong with it in order to fix it."

Professor Membrane leaned back into a chair, rubbing his chin. "I see."

"I know it's really hard, but I can't do it by myself, and I didn't know where else to go," Dib started.

Professor Membrane held up a hand and shook his head. "No, no. Nonsense, son. It's a delightful challenge. And..." He looked up at Dib. "And I'm glad. I'm glad that you felt you could come to me with this."

Dib felt a little awkward. How was he supposed to respond? "Sure thing, Dad," he finally said.

His father nodded. He turned back to the hologram and began to examine it, turning and twisting it as if it were a Rubik's cube. After a few moments of silence, Dib began to back out.

When he turned away, Professor Membrane looked up again. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Dib turned back. "Well, I just...I thought you...I was gonna..." he pointed vaguely towards the exit.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Professor Membrane. "I need you here!"

"You need me?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Professor Membrane, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You know far more about whatever this is than I do! I'll need every hint you can give me!"

"Oh," said Dib.

"And with TWO brilliant minds on this?" said Professor Membrane, grabbing Dib by the shoulders to pull him close. "Why, we're sure to solve this in no time!"

Dib blinked up at his father and found himself smiling. "Okay, Dad," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YEAH it took a hot minute but I'm alive!!!  
> Please like comment and subscribe!
> 
> (To The Enby of the Hour - the self harm sequence in the Game Grumps Doki-Doki playthrough is Episode 28 (Jealousy), 11:36-12:12. However, there are little allusions to it throughout the game. The Grumps are hilarious but please know your triggers <3\. If you don't want to watch Doki Doki I would also recommend their playthrough of A Way Out.)


	5. An Entire Chapter of Pseudoscience and Psychology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't care if you all think this one is boring because it was intellectually stimulating and a fucking delight to write

**THE TIMELINE IN THIS ONE HOPS AROUND SO FUCKING MUCH THAT I'M NOT EVEN GOING TO TRY.**

**BUT WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW IS IT'S ALTERNATING BETWEEN THE ESTABLISHED PAST AND PRESENT TIMELINES**

Dib didn't think he was deteriorating anymore. He knew it. Unfortunately, the most telling sign of this was that he couldn't seem to make himself care.

_"Now, first thing's first," said Professor Membrane, systematically disassembling the projection of the PAK. "We need to know what which parts do."_

_"...Right," said Dib. "Um...Computer?"_

_"That's classified information," said a tired voice from over the speakers._

_Professor Membrane jumped. "What's that?"_

_"It's, uh, an AI," said Dib. "Part of the thumb drive."_

_Professor Membrane practically started. He pointed at the hologram, struggling for words. "Th-this AI?" he asked, in a reverent whisper._

_"What?" asked Dib. "Oh. Oh, no no no. It's a different one."_

_"Oh. It, uh, sounds..." Professor Membrane looked at the speakers, searching for words. "Tired."_

_"You would too, believe me," snorted the speakers. Professor Membrane looked at Dib with a measure of alarm._

_"It's...very smart," said Dib. "And it knows stuff about this thing."_

_"And it's not telling," said the computer. "We had an agreement, Dib."_

_Dib cringed and looked up at his father, whos confusion and concern both seemed to be growing exponentially._

_"Right," he said. "Dad, can you step out for a bit?"_

_"What?"_

_"Just for a bit," said Dib, shoving Professor Membrane out of the lab. He shut the door._

Gaz was playing her games on the big TV downstairs and doing a pretty good job of eating her waffles and button-mashing at the same time. Dib had been watching without really seeing for about an hour.

"I'm going to bed," he said finally, getting up to leave.

"But you just got up," said Gaz.

Dib didn't respond, but he did stop and wait for a moment. When Gaz didn't press the issue, he sighed and went for the stairs.

_"So this is sensory processing, and this is memory," said Dib, pulling away different clumps of wiring. "All of the rest of these are different kinds of response databases, like instinctive, emotional, logical, you know. This part," he said, gesturing to the network of wires underneath, "is just nerves. I don't think there are any problems there. Everything we're looking for is in the response programs. Right?"_

_"I guess," the computer conceded grudgingly._

_"I see," said Professor Membrane. "So...this computer...has a personality disorder?"_

_"Yeah, basically," said Dib._

_"You have no idea," said the computer._

_"Excellent," said Professor Membrane. He swept away the irrelevant parts. "That narrows things down considerably."_

_He and Dib both stared at the indecipherable hellscape of wires still laid out before them._

_"And yet," said Professor Membrane._

Dib couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this empty.

Well.

Actually, he could. But he seemed to remember having a reason back then.

_"Alright," said Dib, moving to dismiss the memory database. "I'm pretty sure we can put memories aside out of the gate."_

_"But some of them might be important," said Professor Membrane, stopping him. "Memories of formative events can affect neural pathways just as much as intrinsic brain structure."_

_"Well," said Dib, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's implying that this thing learns. We don't know if personal experiences can affect how it responds to things in the future."_

_"Then shouldn't we find out?" asked Professor Membrane._

_"That sounds like a waste of time," said the computer._

_Dib and Professor Membrane looked up._

_"...I mean, that's just my opinion, don't mind me," said the computer sarcastically. "Besides, you do know, don't you, Dib?"_

_Professor Membrane looked at Dib._

_Dib pressed his lips together._

_"I mean, unless you're stupid or something," said the computer._

_"Alright, you can shut up now," Dib snapped. He looked at his dad._

_Professor Membrane arched one eyebrow quizzically,_

_Dib sighed. "Okay, yeah, this thing does learn from experiences. But we can't exactly give this thing therapy. It's not even the real computer."_

_"Well, we could-"_

_"And also," said Dib, cutting him off. "We can't look through those. Or edit them. They're probably really weird."_

_Professor Membrane looked at Dib for a long, hard moment._

_"Alright," he finally said, rubbing his temples. "Dib, I appreciate that you want some level of privacy about this machine's origins and particulars. But please don't pretend not to know something that you do. I don't want to get sidetracked trying to figure out something that ends up being moot." He paused. "Pl_ _ease understand, I'm not trying to be invasive. But if we're going to be working together on this, we need to work TOGETHER. You need to trust me. Just with this."_

_Dib nodded. "Yeah. Okay."_

_Professor Membrane reached out and swept the memories aside. "Now," he said, zooming in on the maze of remaining wires. "Let's get to work."_

No. There had to be a reason. What did Dib have to be sad about?

_Dib and Professor Membrane sat shoulder to shoulder in front of the hologram._

_"See, all of these sections run into each other, see?" said Professor Membrane, gesturing to the wires. "Just like a real brain. We won't able to edit any single part without changing everything else."_

_"Well, if all the parts run into each other, then the problems with how it responds are probably in more than one part, too-"_

_"But also, son, some of these lead to the stuff that we sent away, like here and here, see? This leads to sensory, this leads to memory...it's all, you know, interlinked."_

_"Yes, but all of the intrinsic errors are going to be in in those parts. The problems aren't with the, uh, the input, but with the programmed responses."_

_Professor Membrane nodded slowly. "I see. But if the problem is with how it responds to receiving information..."_

_"Then we need to give it information to respond too," said Dib, snapping his fingers._

_"Watch how it reacts," said Professor Membrane._

_"Got it," said Dib. He looked up. "Computer, can you simulate input from the sensory or memory sections of the brain?"_

_The computer gave a long-suffering sigh. "Can you please just speak one language?"_

_Dib blinked. "What?"_

_"I technically know both of them, but I can't keep up if you mix and match whenever you forget a word or whatever."_

_"What are you talking about?" asked Dib._

_The computer groaned. "What input do you need to be simulated?" it asked._

He was so tired. Everything seemed like a reason to be sad.

_After hours of tense silence, Professor Membrane jumped up. "AHA!"_

_Dib's head shot up. "What is it?"_

_"There are TWO sets of programs! Two! Acting at odds with each other! Each running through every part of the brain - except for the sensory and memory, of course - and-"_

_"What?" Dib set aside his speculative pencilwork and ran up to the hologram. "How did you find that? Show me!"_

_"Ah. Here." Professor Membrane stepped aside. "Uh, computer, run the simulation again?" A different path of blue light started through the holographic path at a snail's pace. "It starts into this part, see? And then there are multiple different sets of responses."_

_"We found this a few hours ago, dad," said Dib, shoulders slumping. "You said it was a normal part of-"_

_"No, no, no. Be quiet. Listen." He started the playback again. "See, it's normal to respond with multiple different impulses and emotions, and then have those emotions inform the logical decision-making process, and then have the separate conclusions inform each other, et cetera, et cetera...what we see HERE is a relatively normal group of emotions reaching the logical decision-making center..."_

_The blue light suddenly seemed to explode into multiple different trails._

_"...and going completely crazy. Like two completely different conclusions are fighting with each other. And...here, look...the place with the clearest disconnect seems to be in the instinct database."_

_"So there are two sets of instincts? At war with each other?"_

_"Yes. But it's not just instincts, either. Different sets of responses are fighting with each other throughout the entire brain. It's subtle in some places, but in others it's very clear."_

_Dib blinked caffeinated sleep deprivation out of his eyes and shook his head a little. He looked up. "Computer?"_

_"It...makes sense," said the computer thoughtfully. "It actually explains a lot."_

_"Can you tell us more?"_

_"No."_

_"Oy." Dib turned to Professor Membrane. "Did you figure out anything else?"_

_"Well," said Professor Membrane, "The main difference seems to be that one is supposed to be there, and the other..." he paused, frowning._

_"The other?" Dib prompted._

_"The other...seems to have made itself."_

He knew that lying in bed would only make everything worse. But the feeling that he was making everything worse just made him want to lie in bed even more.

_"So if we want to fix it..." said Dib._

_"Then we need to negate the programming that isn't meant to be there."_

_"Yeah, but how?"_

_They stared at the hologram for a hard minute. Then both of them started talking over each other at a mile a minute, spewing out so many ideas in English and Spanish with varying levels of comprehensibility that a document was eventually created to write them all down. The real work had begun._

Eventually Dib sighed and rolled over to stare blankly at the wall. It had been a good run. But he wasn't kidding anyone.

His brain just couldn't be fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway so Jay died and now I have no one to do Spanish Translation for me, and I refuse to use an internet translator, so I just kind of wrote it all in English. Anyway. HMU if you're fluent in Spanish and want to help me out.
> 
> Also when Professor Membrane said the computer sounded Tired it took all my willpower not to have him say Sexy instead so thank you Ceph and Dana for the irreversible impact BrainBrane has had on my creativity.


	6. Another Zimless Flashback Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim content resumes next week

**ONE AND A HALF YEARS FROM THE PRESENT (there we go)**  
  


Dib poured himself a cup of coffee and yawned, rubbing his eyes. He left the kitchen, turning to head back down into the lab.

Professor Membrane was working to map out different parts of the holographic wiring in front of him. When Dib came in, he looked up.

"Oh, don't bother with that, son! It's basically water!" he said, taking the coffee out of Dib's hand and setting it aside. "Here. I set some aside for you."

He handed Dib what was basically a mug-shaped shot glass holding less than five milileters of something so black it almost had a blue sheen.

Dib blinked at it. "But you said I wasn't allowed to have this stuff," he said.

"Tonight is a night of exceptions, son. You have my...temporary permission."

Dib suddenly felt nervous, but he took a deep breath and threw it back. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he gasped as the whatever it was hit his system with a feeling almost like a punch in the chest.

"A bit jarring, isn't it?" asked Professor Membrane. "Are you alright?"

Dib leaned against a table. "Th...THIS is what you've been drinking this whole time?"

Professor Membrane took a long, slow slurp from his mug. "I can see Jesus," he said.

\----------------------

**THIS CHAPTER READS A LITTLE BIT LIKE A MONTAGE**

**SO MAY I RECCOMEND PUTTING ON THE SONG TOUCH-TONE TELEPHONE BY LEMON DEMON BEFORE CONTINUING?**

**OR WHATEVER YOU WANT TO LISTEN TO I DON'T CARE**

_________________________

"First of all," said Dib, pointing at the hologram beside him, "we aren't able to physically alter the computer. We can't pull any wires or remove any plugs or just...in any way physically reroute this thing. Any changes we make need to be through extraneous software. Some sort of program, or maybe a virus, that can be put into it..."

"Does it have an accessible port?" asked Professor Membrane, squinting at the model.

"Um-" Dib started.

"Yes," said the computer.

"-Yes," said Dib, drawing out the "y" a little too long. "Yup, that's taken care of," he continued, sweating. "I definitely already know how that's going to work. We just need to focus on writing code."

"We need to see the code to be able to write a counter-program," said Professor Membrane.

"Right," said Dib. "Computer?"

"Brace yourself," said the computer. The screen behind the hologram went blank. Then thousands of lines of indiscipherable symbols burst onto the monitor in neat lines of calligraphic squiggles.

Dib actually took a step back.

Professor Membrane just nodded. He stood up and put a hand on Dib's head. "Well, son," he said. "Let's get to work."

\----------------------

Gaz came down to the basement. She was still in her pajamas and looked kind of pissed. "What are you doing in Dad's lab, Dib?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "It's five in the morning."

Dib turned around from his spot at the computer and took the chewed-up pen from out of his mouth. "Hey, Gaz," he said, waving.

Professor Membrane also turned around. "Ah, my girl child!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing up so late?"

Gaz blinked. "Dad?"

"It's five in the morning, Dad," said Dib, turning around to continue typing.

"Is it now?" said Professor Membrane, scratching the top of his head. "How the time flies." He looked at his work and nodded, then stood up. "I think I've reached a good stopping point. I'll go get some breakfast for us."

Dib lifted a finger. "Toast, please."

"I thought you were supposed to go to a conference," said Gaz.

"Oh, I've cancelled that," said Professor Membrane, stretching. "Your brother and I are working on something right now!"

Gaz looked completely incredulous.

"Now, honey, my work IS important. But what kind of father would I be if I couldn't be there for my son when he needed me?" Professor Membrane reached out and tousled Gaz's hair as he passed her.

"Do you want anything special for breakfast, by the way?" he asked. "So far I'm hearing toast."

Gaz was still staring at him. Eventually she shrugged. "Toast is cool," she said.

"Toast it is, then!" said Professor Membrane, and disappeared upstairs.

Gaz turned to Dib. "What's going on?"

Dib looked at her and smiled. "Isn't it great? He's so COOL, Gaz! Wait! Look- look at this!" He tapped a section of the PAK, pulling up the corresponding coding on the screen. Gaz came up and stood behind him, watching as he highlighted a section of symbols. "I would have NEVER figured this part out on my own!" he said.

"No," said Gaz. "I mean, why is he, like..."

She trailed off. Dib tore his gaze from the computer and blinked at her. His smile became fixed, then faded. "What? Why is he like what?"

Gaz looked around the lab, then back at Dib. She shrugged. "Nothing. It is cool."

Dib smiled for real again and turned back to his work, sticking his pen back into his mouth.

Gaz reached out and started to idly spin the hologram. "Does he know what this is?" she asked.

"No," said Dib.

She stopped spinning it. "Are you going to tell him?" she asked carefully.

"Eh, maybe," said Dib. He looked at Gaz. "I mean, does it matter? He doesn't need to believe me to help me, right?"

Gaz nodded. Dib didn't seem to be looking for much of a response. She watched him work for a little longer, then shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going back to bed."

"Alright," said Dib distractedly. "You do that."

Gaz watched him for a moment longer, then turned and trudged up the stairs. She shook her head slightly, but she was smiling a little. "Idiots."

\----------------------

"Do we really have it?" asked Dib, staring in awe at the completed sequence. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess. He looked awful, and yet he seemed to be glowing.

"Only one way to find out," said Professor Membrane, putting his hand on Dib's back. "Go try it out."

Dib looked at the program with a growing smile on his face. Quickly he ran up to eject the hard drive.

The computer suddenly hummed. "Wait," it said.

Dib paused with his hand on the hard drive. "What?" he asked.

"Shouldn't, uh..." said the computer, "shouldn't we run a test, first?"

"That's what I'm gonna go do," said Dib. He was starting to get annoyed. "That's what you SAID I would have to do."

"I know," said the computer. "But..."

Dib waited. "But?"

The computer seemed to be struggling. "Step back," it finally said.

Dib hesitated, then took his hand off the hard drive and stepped away.

The hologram of the PAK glitched for a moment, then spun around on its own to face Dib and Professor Membrane. A holographic cable snaked into the frame and plugged into the PAK.

"I'm uploading the virus into the ghost copy of the software," said the computer. "This will show us how it will respond."

"Why didn't you tell us you could do that?"

"You didn't ask," said the computer.

"Why are you telling us now?" asked Dib.

The computer sighed. "Just watch."

The PAK hologram up until now had been relatively passive in recieving the program. Then its lights began to flash angrily.

"What-" Dib started.

"It's detecting outside interference," said the computer.

The image of the PAK lay still for a moment longer. Then the collapsible legs BURST out of it, razor spears of light extending into the room at lightning speed.

The simulation froze.

Dib had put his hands in front of his face. He lowered them slowly to find one of the holographic legs sticking through his chest.

"And that," said the computer, resetting the simulation, "is how it will respond."

"It's protected," said Professor Membrane. "I was so distracted with translating the code that I didn't even think of anti-malware."

Dib, meanwhile, was poking his chest were the fake leg had gone through. He looked up. "Why didn't you tell us this you could do this earlier?" he demanded.

The computer made the universal noise of "I dunno."

"I almost went and did that! Like, PHYSICALLY! I almost DIED!"

"But you didn't," said the computer.

Dib opened his mouth, but Professor Membrane rested a hand on his shoulder.

"What's done is done, son," he said. "You're here and in one piece. Best not to dwell on it now. And now we know that we can safely test our prototypes right here!"

Dib sank into a chair. "I thought we were finished," he said.

"Such is science, my boy!" exclaimed Professor Membrane. "Back to work!"  
  


\----------------------

"It didn't reject it this time," said Dib.

"That is a step," said Professor Membrane.

They stared at the PAK for a moment, as if waiting for it to spontaneously combust.

"Computer," said Dib. "Can you simulate how he- uh, the subject would respond to the same stimulus that it did in default mode?"

"Alright," sighed the computer. "Here goes nothing."

The glowing blue light snaked into the PAK again. Then what looked like a fucking nuclear reaction went off inside, systematically lighting up every single wire until it looked like an LED headlight. Then it went completely black.

"Aaaaand you killed it," said the computer.

"KILLED it?" said Dib.

"Sounds about right," said Professor Membrane.

"KILLED it," said Dib.

"What part of 'you killed it' do you not understand?" said the computer.

Dib stared at the PAK. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes. "So if I..."

"Yes, if you did this in person it would kill the real thing."

"And this would-"

"Kill it? Yes."

Dib stared incredulously at the programming that he and his father had written.

"It happens, son!" said Professor Membrane. "Honestly, I would have been surprised if we hadn't killed it at least once before getting it right! Computer, play the simulation again. Let's figure out what went wrong."

Dib stared at the PAK for a moment longer. Then he took a deep breath and nodded.  
  


\----------------------  
  


_Failed._

_Failed._

_Failed._  
  


Professor Membrane turned to Dib to inform him of a discovery and found him asleep on the desk. He draped an extra lab coat over his shoulders and turned back to his work.  
  


_Failed._

_Failed._

_Failed._

Sheets of paper littered the floor, penciled coding ideas written in an illegible blend of english, spanish, and alien symbols.

_Failed._

_Failed._

_Failed._

  
Dib scrolled up and down the computer screen erratically and rubbed his eyes.

_Failed._

_Failed._

_Failed._

"I think we're close," said Dib, watching the latest failed simulation.

"No, you're not," sighed the computer.

Dib and Professor Membrane groaned in tandem.

  
_Failed_

_Failed_

_Failed_

_Failed_

_Failed_

_Failed_

_Failed_

_..._

_..._

_..._

  
\----------------------

Gaz came down the stairs. "Okay. What's going on? You've been down here for a whole week."

The lab was a wreck. Enough sheets of scratch paper were scattered on the floor to make a life-size paper-mache reconstruction of Mount Rushmore. Over a dozen coffee cups were piled on various surfaces, some still half-full of tepid blue-black liquid. The air smelled of body odor and despair.

Dib sat motionless at his desk, his head down on the table. Professor Membrane was leaning against the wall, forehead braced on his arm. They both had disheveled hair and eyes suffused with enough blood to sate a vampire.

Dib lifted his head suddenly. "We could try- no..." He let his forehead fall back to the table.

After a moment, Professor Membrane lifted his head off of his forearm and raised a finger. "What if- ah...no..." He put his hand down again and pressed his head back against his arm.

Gaz glanced at both of them with disgust and walked unnoticed between them to the monitor.

Despondent silence hung unbroken in the lab for a few minutes. Then:

"You're looking at this all wrong."

Professor Membrane looked up. Dib swivelled around in his chair. "What?"

Gaz pointed at the PAK. "This entire thing is only half of what's going on, right? There's an organic brain too. In the head." She held up a stack of notes, taken ostensibly from the floor. "From what I can tell, you're acting like a good chunk of this programming isn't even supposed to be there. But what if that part of the software is from the organic brain? If that were the case, then it's the part of the computer that's programmed intentionally in here that's problematic. They're trying to regulate the organic stuff. Like, brainwashing."

"WHAT?" Dib exclaimed. He ran to the computer to look at the hologram, shouldering Gaz aside. His eyes darted back and forth over the structure.

Professor Membrane came up beside him, gently shooing Gaz back with one hand. He hunched over next to Dib. They conferred quietly in two languages, then slowly turned to look at each other.

"THAT'S IT!" Dib shouted.

"THAT'S WHAT WE'VE BEEN MISSING!" shouted Professor Membrane.

Dib laughed, throwing his head back in sleep-deprived giddiness. Professor Membrane laughed too, picking him up in a hug.

"You're both idiots," Gaz muttered.

Professor Membrane set Dib quickly back down and began looking more intently into the PAK, opening up sections of wiring to look with new eyes. Dib ran up to Gaz and threw his arms around her.

"Gaz, you're a GENIUS!"

"Don't touch me."

"Son! Come look at this!"

Dib immediately let Gaz go and darted back to Professor Membrane's side.

"See, now, if we try number 17 again-" Professor Membrane started.

"RIGHT! But instead of embedding a response to a reaction to THAT section of code..."

Gaz watched them with an expression that looked almost like contentment. Then she turned and went back up the stairs.

\-----------------

From there it was smooth sailing. Gaz brought them snacks while they worked, nachos and soda and pizza, and only complained mildly about having to bring the plates back up. Sometimes she would come downstairs and play her video games in the lab.

And then it happened.

\------------

"It worked."

The one speaking wasn't Dib or Professor Membrane. It was the computer. The other two were far too busy staring at the simulation in awe.

"It...actually worked. You ACTUALLY did it."

"We...we did it," mumbled Dib. He took a stumbling step backwards.

"Woah, there, son," said Professor Membrane, putting a hand behind Dib's back. "It can be a lot to process, can't it?"

The two sat down and watched the PAK as it spun slowly on its axis, negated programming centers marked off neatly from the rest of the structure.

"Play it again?" said Dib, voice wavering.

The PAK swivelled faithfully to face them. The simulation played again, this time firing not quite like a normal brain, but with incalculably better function.

"Dios mio..." Dib whispered.

"Congratulations, son!" said Professor Membrane. Indeed, he seemed to be beaming with pride. He crossed to the computer and ejected the hard drive, then turned and held it out to Dib. "Now, all that's left to do is go try it in real life. Be sure to monitor it carefully, now. And if there are any bugs, we can work them out."

Dib nodded and stood up. He walked past the hard drive and hugged his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of not sure about how this turned out. You know what would fix that? Affirming comments. Or Animal Crossing, but I can't play it lmao


	7. Let Zim Swear 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zim is back and he's a little shit.

**PRESENT DAY**

It was four in the afternoon and Dib was still in bed. It was impossible to tell whether he was asleep or awake. He certainly didn't know.

Regardless, he was certainly the latter when his window burst inwards, showering glass onto his floor. Zim jumped in shortly after.

"DIB-MONKEY!" he shouted. He was wearing his redesigned invader clothes and everything.

Dib closed his eyes and heaved a massive sigh. He rolled over. "Did you just break my window?" he asked.

Zim pointed at Dib angrily. "IT IS SATURDAY, DIB-SHIT! WHERE THE CUNT WERE YOU?"

"Whaddya mean?" asked Dib, yawning.

"I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR HOURS! IN AN INCREDIBLY CONSPICUOUS BATTLE MECH! POISED TO DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU HOLD DEAR!"

"Ugh," Dib groaned, rolling back over.

"IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY? YOU KEPT ZIM WAITING! DIB! DIB!"

Dib pulled the covers over his head. Then something outside from underneath the blankets growled. Claws grabbed his arm and yanked him out of bed.

He hit the floor with a thud. "OW! What the FUCK, ZIM?"

"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" asked Zim, grabbing his shoulders and shaking. "ZIM DEMANDS HIS ARCH-NEMESIS AT FULL FUNCTIONALITY!"

"Stop it! Don't touch me!"

Zim let go, but continued to glare at Dib.

Dib sighed and reached for his glasses. "It doesn't MATTER, Zim. None of it matters. You know that."

Zim blinked. His expression shifted into one of surprising vulnerability, then quickly turned to suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"What do I-" Dib snorted. "Don't you remember? Your mission is FAKE! And that makes MY mission even FAKER! You're stuck light-years away from a society that doesn't even care about you, and I can't make mine care about either of us! Nobody cares about what we do. Not even the people who are supposed to." He leaned back against his bed. "So what's the point of doing it?"

Zim stared at Dib speechless for a moment. Then his antennae twitched. His eyes narrowed. "Zim remembers," he snapped.

Dib glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Zim remembers ALL of this," said Zim, walking forward. "But Zim ALSO remembers that YOU know this!"

"What?"

"You were not sad until five days ago! But you have known those things for much longer than five days! You have been schmoopy about them before, and then stopped! Something ELSE must be wrong with you."

"We don't all have twenty different mental disorders, Zim," said Dib, rolling his eyes. "One can be enough for some people."

"HA!" Zim pointed at Dib. "YOU ARE TRYING TO MAKE ZIM UPSET SO THAT I WILL LEAVE YOU ALONE! It will not work, Dib! You insult Zim DAILY! I AM IMMUNE TO YOUR WORDS!" Grinning with triumph, he sat down cross-legged on Dib's floor. "And if you want me to leave you alone, then the SUREST way to foil your plans is to STAY RIGHT HERE!"

"Alright, you do that," sighed Dib. He idly picked a piece of fuzz out of his carpet and flicked it away, not looking at Zim.

Something hard hit him in the neck.

He jerked and clapped his hand to his throat, whirling to face Zim. The alien was looking in a completely different direction like he had never done anything in his life. Dib looked into his lap and found the shard of glass from the window.

"Did you just throw GLASS at me?"

Zim turned to him with wide eyes and pointed at himself. "Who, ME?" he asked, in the bullshittiest of tones.

"You could have CUT me!" Dib exclaimed.

"That's what you GET for ignoring ZIM!"

"You can't just throw GLASS at people!"

"TELL ZIM YOUR MALFUNCTION."

Dib glared at him, his hand still pressed to his neck. Then he sighed. "Fuck, Zim, I don't know what to tell you. That stuff I told you is all I can think of. There's nothing else that's the matter. I don't know why it's bothering me again. It just IS."

"Hm." Zim tapped his lower lip with a single claw. "Well," he said, "are you schmoopy because you are thinking about it...or are you thinking about it because you are schmoopy?"

"What?"

"SILENCE!" Zim shouted. "LET ZIM FINISH!" He leaned back, crossing his arms with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Occasionally when Zim is...at a less amazing level than normal, I think about things that I don't normally think about. Things that I know, but that are not SUPPOSED to upset me. Like the things you said. They pass through my brilliant mind like a slurmp through a schnock-smizz-"

"What?"

"but it means NOTHING!" Zim continued. "NOTHING! When Zim thinks about these things it means that he is HUNGRY! Or has been WORKING FOR TOO LONG! Or NEEDS TO WATCH TV! Perhaps something...similar is happening in your own ridiculous meat brain."

"I dunno, Zim," said Dib. "I think my...'meat-brain' is just broken."

"Isn't that what the little slime-makey pills are for? To fix it?"

"No...I mean, yes...ugh." Dib dragged a hand down his face. "I mean, they're supposed to fix it - supposed to help, anyway - and I've been doing everything I'm supposed to, I go to therapy, I try to get up and do things...I just don't know. I don't know what's wrong." He leaned his head back against his bed. "Maybe nothing can fix it," he mumbled.

The silence that followed was long and heavy. Dib closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.

"...nobody thought Zim could be fixed," came a quiet voice.

Dib looked up.

Zim was frowning intently at the carpet, refusing to meet Dib's gaze. He reached behind his back and absentmindedly rubbed his PAK. "At least you are able to tell that something is wrong," he said. "You are aware of your malfunction. When that is true, there will always one person who cares."

Dib blinked.

Zim glanced up at him. He jumped to his feet. "DO NOT LOOK AT ZIM LIKE THAT!"

"Damn, sorry!" said Dib, looking away.

Zim huffed. "REGARDLESS, all Zim means is that if there is a problem, FIX it!"

"What if you can't fix it?"

"Then make it someone ELSE'S problem and have THEM fix it!" said Zim, rolling his eyes. "SPEAKING OF WHICH!" he got up and started to climb out the window.

Dib frowned at the ceiling. "Huh." He lifted his head. "I feel like that's almost good advice. Like...there's good advice in there somewhere."

"Of COURSE!" came Zim's voice from outside. From what Dib could tell, he was rummaging around in the cockpit of a battle mech. "Zim is BRILLIANT."

Something outside let out a snarling, yowling noise.

Dib squinted, trying to see out the window. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Zim set a container on the windowsill and climbed up beside it, grinning maliciously. Dib shrunk back a bit.

"Revenge, Dib-fuck," said Zim, then reached over and popped a latch on the crate.

A massive blur of sharp edges and fur burst out of the box, flying right towards Dib with a hellish noise emerging from many throats. Dib cried out and threw his arms up in front of his face.

The noise cut off. Something soft rubbed against Dib's arm.

Dib flinched away and looked down to find what looked like a blue housecat. "Oh," he said.

"HA!" Zim shouted from the window. "THAT will teach you to lie in bed all day and SHIRK YOUR DUTY! Now YOU will have to cater to the snarlbeast's whims, Dib! Even when you ignore Zim, the snarlbeast will be there, wanting food and water and constant attention! And woe be to any creature that neglects what it wants."

The snarlbeast was climbing Dib's shirt and kneading his chest with its front paws, purring like a motorcycle as it furiously rubbed its head against Dib's chin. Dib had his hands gently on it and was laughing as its whiskers tickled his neck. "Stop!" he exclaimed, then laughed again as it started to lick his face. "Stop!"

"It will never stop. Your fate is sealed, Dib-stench," said Zim, picking up the carrier.

"Wait-" Dib started, reaching forward, but the snarlbeast chose that moment to head-butt him in the throat. "Ow! Okay! Okay! I'm paying attention to you!"

"Good luck," sang Zim. "VICTORY FOR ZIM!"

With that, he darted out the window. Dib heard the mech starting up, but was distracted by the snarlbeast, who still hadn't seemed to get over the fact that Dib was physically there. Eventually Dib just lay still and let it happen.

Outside he could dimly hear maniacal laughter and the fading footsteps of a giant mech. It was strange how little Zim seemed to have changed, even after all these years. Sometimes it was hard to tell that Dib had even modified anything.

\----------------------

The door to Zim's base opened, allowing the mech to maneuver inside before shutting behind it. The mech walked forward a few steps into the living room, then powered down. The cockpit popped open and Zim climbed out. He landed on the floor and posed with his hands on his hips.

"I'm HOME!"

From elsewhere in the house came a high-pitched shriek, growing steadily louder. Footsteps grew in speed and volume and Gir came bursting into the room, slipping on the floor a little as he ran straight for Zim. "MASTER!"

"GIR!" Zim exclaimed, crouching into a ready stance.

Gir jumped up and threw himself into Zim's arms. Zim caught him and held him tight for a moment, then held him out at arm's length. "Did you miss Zim?"

"Mm-hm! I missed you THIS much," he said, stretching out his arms and making his hands like little brackets.

"That is a VAST amount indeed!" said Zim. "Impressive!" He pulled Gir in and planted a kiss against his forehead. "And MINIMOOSE!"

"Nyeh!" exclaimed Minimoose, floating in the air next to Zim.

Zim looked it in the eyes. "YOU ARE THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE."

"Nyeh!" Minimoose replied.

Zim bashfully averted his gaze and waved his hand at Minimoose. "Oh, you!" he giggled.

"So how did it go?" asked the computer.

"It went PERFECTLY!" crowed Zim. "Zim's revenge is complete."

"Did the snarlbeast maul him?" asked the computer.

"It did NOT! All was JUST as Zim told you."

"Huh. I stand corrected."

"ALWAYS THE TONE OF SURPRISE, COMPUTER!" shouted Zim, making his way to the trash can. "The Dib is the snarlbeast's slave now, and all according to my brilliant plan! THAT will keep him alert! THAT will teach him to ignore the MIGHTY ZIM!"

  
\----------------------

  
Dib rounded the corner and started down the stairs. The snarlbeast was wound around his shoulders, rubbing its head against his cheek.

"Just gotta warn you," Dib was saying, "I have no idea what you eat." He looked down the stairs. "Oh."

Professor Membrane had one foot at the bottom of the stairs. He was looking up at him. "Ah," he said. "There you are."

"Hey, Dad," said Dib.

Professor Membrane took his foot off the bottom step and stood there awkwardly. "Your, um, your sister said that you were still in bed."

Dib shrugged.

"She said that you seemed...out of it," said Professor Membrane.

Dib shifted on his feet. "Yeah, well," he said. He hesitated for a moment. "Can we talk?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking forgot to upload this yesterday so here it is now. Sorry about that. Also please comment I love to read them.
> 
> Also, QwertyIsQueen I hope that this alleviated your fears about the long-term effects on Zim's personality. If not the next fic might help :-P


	8. Epilogue - Token Ghost-Hunting Scene Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to bust some ghosts or whatever.

Dib stepped into the house, the warped wooden floorboards creaking under his feet. A few seconds later they creaked again as the snarlbeast wound itself around his legs. It looked up at him.

"What do you think?" asked Dib.

The snarlbeast meowed.

Dib nodded. "Yeah. Me too." He unholstered his flashlight and twirled it in his hand, then flicked it on and brandished the beam of light like a weapon. "LOOK OUT, GHOSTS!"

"Have you finally come to blow up the laundry ghostie?" asked a voice behind him.

Dib whirled around. The snarlbeast hissed beneath him, planting itself between Dib and the speaker.

It was Zim. He was standing on the doorstep, wearing his characteristic sweatshirt and pants. He crossed his arms and smiled smugly. "You seem motivated."

"What's it to you, space scum?" asked Dib.

Zim grinned. "The honor of defeating you is Zim's alone! What glory is there if your own stupid meat brain is to blame?"

"Jokes on YOU! It was actually SEASONAL depression, not chronic depression!" said Dib.

"Eh?"

"I told Dad what was going on and when it started! He thought it might be Seasonal Affective Disorder, so he took a BLOOD test! Turns out I'm Vitamin D deficient! I JUST NEEDED MORE SUN!" Dib exclaimed, triumphant.

"HA!" Zim shouted. "What a STUPID weakness to have. ALL this time you were pointlessly schmoopy, just because you needed THE D."

Dib made a strange choking noise and pressed a hand to his mouth.

"WHAT? WHAT DID ZIM SAY?"

"Nothing," Dib squeaked. "Nothing, just-"

"The D?"

Dib choked again and burst out laughing, bending sharply at the waist to clutch his stomach.

"What is it? Zim DEMANDS TO KNOW!"

Dib held up a finger, trying to regain control of himself. "It's nothing," he whispered. "It's nothing." he straightened up and took a deep breath, wiping tears of mirth from underneath his glasses. "Anyway, I take a supplement now."

"A what?"

"Eh, a pill." Dib swung his flashlight around in his hand, as if testing its heft. "Little...thing. Take it at breakfast. Gives me, uh..."

"The D?"

Dib snorted, but managed to keep it under control. "Yeah. The, uh..." he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. "I can't, I fucking can't," he whispered, turning back to walk into the house.

Zim frowned and stepped forward to follow, but stumbled back when the snarlbeast hissed and swiped a claw at him.

Dib found the basement much quicker this time. He descended the stairs and turned around, focusing his light on the washing machine.

"So what's the plan?" asked Zim, leaning over the railing.

Dib opened his mouth, then shut it and turned suspiciously towards Zim. "Why do you want to know?"

Zim shrugged.

"Fair," said Dib. "I'm going to try to talk to it."

"That's boring! And pointless! You're trying to be rid of this thing, are you not?"

"Well, yeah," said Dib, pulling a piece of chalk out of his bag, "but ghosts always have a reason. And I do want to learn all I can about this thing before I exorcise it." He turned to Zim and held up the chalk significantly. "So you have to either participate or leave."

Zim groaned, leaning his head back and letting his antennae go limp.

"You know the drill, Zim."

"UGH, fine," said Zim, shuffling down the stairs.

"You can leave if you want to," said Dib, smirking. He knew Zim wasn't going anywhere.

Zim muttered something under his breath and stood next to Dib with arms crossed. Dib knelt down and began to draw the circle.

The setup started out pretty smoothly, as per the rules. Dib set down the little tea candles at the proper points, then tuned the radio while Zim lit them with his lasers. Then Zim declared he had set a new candle-lighting record and insisted that Dib record it in his notebook. Dib reminded Zim that the notebook was for paranormal phenomena only. Zim informed Dib his candle-lighting prowess was abnormally amazing and thus deserved to be in there. Dib argued that that didn't count, and besides, Prince Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender had set the candle-lighting record in the Season 2 episode Tales of Ba Sing Se, and Zim hadn't come close to breaking it. Zim said that his candle-lighting was much faster than that particular sequence. Dib reminded him that Zuko lit far more candles and if one were to isolate the lighting of any five of them it would be much faster than Zim. Zim said no. Dib said yes. Zim said that according to his calculations it didn't. Dib said Zim was lying, and besides Zim had FOUR PAK limbs while Zuko only used his hands. Zim said that Zuko used his feet too. Dib said no. Zim said yes, and did an impromptu demonstration of the choreography to prove it. Dib said that while that might be true, he only used one foot. Zim said mmm he was pretty sure Zuko used both feet. Dib said that even if Zuko DID use two feet, he couldn't use them at the same time, whereas Zim could fire all four PAK legs at once. Zim said if that was the case, then it was hardly a fair comparison, and besides the question was who lit the candles the fastest, so these extra parameters didn't need to come into it. Dib conceded that that was the way he had worded it, but either way it wasn't going in the notebook. Zim said fine, then feinted and grabbed for the notebook himself.

The actual seance began about five minutes later, a considerable percentage of which was spent retrieving the chalk and candles and setting everything up again. Shredded scraps of notebook paper were scattered on the floor around them like confetti. The snarlbeast was playing idly with a larger, crumpled scrap.

"Ready?" asked Dib, trying again to straighten his glasses. The frames were definitely bent. He took them off and attempted to twist them back into place.

Zim was tugging on his sweater. Part of the neck appeared to have gotten caught in one of the PAK leg ports. He let go and opened the port to ease it out. Upon inspection it was creased, but not torn. "Ready," he said.

Dib put on his glasses. "Okay," he said, and reached out his hand.

Holding Zim's hand for seances was one of the things that had gotten less weird over the years. Sometimes one or both of them would make a fuss about it, but they'd had their obligatory strife already. Too many conflicts in one setting and things just got tedious.

Zim slipped his hand into Dib's, then cringed and pulled away. "YOUR SECRETIONS ARE FILTHY!" he screeched. "COPIOUS AND FILTHY!"

Dib rolled his eyes and rubbed his palms on his pants, blushing with pubescent shame. "I can't HELP it," he snapped. "Where are your gloves?"

"I am RETRIEVING them," sniffed Zim. Moments later, his PAK opened up, limbs depositing a pair of three-fingered gloves into his hands. The hot pink ones. He slipped them on, muttering something about "disgusting" and "oil" and "sweat," then took Dib's hand.

"Ready?" asked Dib, practically begging at this point.

"Ee-yes," said Zim, nodding once.

"Fucking finally," said Dib. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly through his nose.

"If there are any spirits here, please make your presence known."

Nothing happened. Dib resisted the urge to open his eyes. He could feel Zim fidgeting next to him. He'd learned from experience that Zim couldn't sit still to save his life. But he'd also learned from experience that fighting during a seance was a good way to piss off a ghost.

Still, Zim coughing for no apparent reason was too much. Dib grit his teeth and squeezed Zim's hand, hard. Zim exclaimed with quiet indignation and squeezed back, harder. Dib pressed his lips together and was trying not to just give up and fucking hit him when the radio static swelled in volume. About the same time, the snarlbeast let out an angry yowl.

Zim and Dib opened their eyes and let go of each other, years of ingrained instincts treating the other as a threat as much as anything else. The telltale clicking of stirring PAK legs sounded from Zim's direction, but Dib thrust out his hand. "Wait! wait!" he hissed.

The radio died suddenly.

Dib didn't dare to breathe. His heart was pounding in his ears. Attempting to contact the other side was always risky business, particularly when the ghost in question had already tried to kill you.

Zim, for his part, looked like he was about to jump out of his skin. Dib caught his gaze and smirked. "What, you scared?"

Zim's fear turned to anger and he opened his mouth to respond. Then a voice from an entirely different direction said "No."

Zim screamed and flew into the air. Dib scrambled back. His immediate thought was that the ghost had thrown Zim, but a few moments later he realized that his alien companion just hadn't taken the time to stand up before using his PAK legs to pull himself off the ground. He hovered in mid-air like a water strider, hugging his knees to his chest.

"WHERE IS IT?" Zim demanded.

"SHUT UP," Dib snapped, turning his head around frantically. "Can't your fancy alien stuff see it?"

"DO not question ZIM!"

"What's your problem?" griped the voice.

Zim screamed again. Dib turned back to him. "Would. You. Shut. UP?" he snapped, then noticed that Zim was pointing frantically at something over Dib's shoulder.

Dib whirled around.

The snarlbeast was sitting calmly behind him. Standing, actually. On two legs. Somewhat clumsily. Like someone had handed a blindfolded beginner the strings to a marionette, but failed to tell them that the puppet was meant to be a quadruped.

Dib took a second to take it in. He swallowed. "Hello," he said with a little wave. "Uh, my name is Dib Membrane, and this is-"

"I AM ZIM!"

Dib struggled not to roll his eyes. "Zim," he finished.

"I don't care," griped the snarlbeast. Its mouth didn't move when it spoke. "What do you want?"

It suddenly struck Dib how whiny the ghost's voice was. Every wide vowel seemed to squeal. Add in the ethereal echoing and it was easily one of the most irritating things Dib had ever heard.

"Um," he said, trying to regain his bearings. "Why are you here?"

The snarlbeast's arms crossed. A noise came from the spiritual plane like someone sighing really quickly into their microphone on Discord. "I'm waiting."

"Waiting for what?" asked Dib.

"For them to find me."

Dib and Zim looked at each other.

"For...WHO to find you?" asked Dib, fidgeting nervously.

"My friends," said the ghost. 

Zim and Dib waited, confused.

"They’ll come eventually. I’m last, so I get to be ‘it’ next round.”

"The ghost is insane," Zim hissed, not-too-quietly, in Dib's ear.

Dib shook his head, thinking. "Wait wait wait. Are you playing hide-and-seek?"

“Uh, DUH,” said the ghost, in that fucking obnoxious way that little kids do that makes you want to punt them, age-be-damned.

“Okay, I hate to break this to you, but you’re dead,” said Dib, patience dwindling rapidly.

“I KNOW that,” said the ghost, indignant. “They’re going to find me, and then I’ll be ‘it,’ and then they’ll all die, too, horrible, sad deaths, just like me. Then they’ll be sorry.”

“Okay, that's a mood,” said Dib begrudgingly.

“How did you die?” asked Zim, tilting his head.

The ghost heaved a sigh, a “you’re SO stupid” sigh. Then the snarlbeast’s eyes went blank and all of a sudden the basement was clean and new and someone in the distance was counting.

Zim yelped and stumbled back on his PAK legs into the corner, but Dib held out his arms in a vaguely placating motion.

"Woah woah woah, calm down," he said. "I think we're having a vision."

"ZIM'S SIGHT IS FLAWLESS," said Zim.

"Oh my fucking- not that kind of...UGH. I mean, I think he’s SHOWING us what happened? You asked how he died, right?”

Zim blinked.

“So, we’re watching what went down.”

"Oh,” said Zim, relaxing slightly. “That's stupid."

"You're stupid."

What was sure to be a witty and cutting exchange of banter cut off as footsteps pitter-pattered down the stairs. A little boy rounded the bend and ran past them to the washing machine. He carefully dragged over a step stool and clambered inside.

"Is that the ghost?" asked Zim.

"Probably," said Dib. "Well. When he was alive."

Zim squinted at the boy. "He's ugly."

"I mean, I wasn't going to say anything," Dib replied.

From upstairs came the sound of tittering and a bunch of little feet leaving the house. Nobody came down the basement stairs.

"Oh," said Dib.

"Oof," said Zim.

"F," said Dib. "F in the chat. F in the chat for one ugly and really annoying little boy."

The boy's mom came downstairs and, without looking, threw a bunch of clothes into the washer. She turned it on.

After she went upstairs, Zim and Dib could vaguely hear the sound of a high-pitched screech, wavering in tone as the speaker spun rapidly around. 

“OOP-” Dib choked.

The vision ended.

Zim and Dib looked at each other.

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Zim shrieked, hugging his stomach with laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Dib laughed with him, smacking the basement floor.

The snarlbeast was pouting at them. "It's NOT FUNNY!" the ghost whined.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Zim cackled.

Dib was curled into the fetal position and crying. "I CAN'T BREATHE-"

Zim laughed so hard that he lost balance on his PAK legs and fell over. The legs retracted into his PAK as he kept laughing.

Dib was literally writhing, kicking his legs and making a strangled noise somewhere between laughing and sobbing.

"I DIED," said the ghost.

"YOU DIED-" Dib squeaked, then continued to choke on laughter. "YOU DIED!"

"He-he-he..." Zim struggled to speak, pushing himself upright and biting back giggles. "He went 'AAAAAAaaaaAAaaAAAaaaaaAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAHHH!'" Zim warbled in a mockery of the ugly child's death throes. "AAAAAAaaaAAAAAHAHAH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"NO!" Dib begged. "NO! My stomach!"

"You guys are MEAN!" the ghost whined.

Something in his tone made them laugh even harder.

“My death was AWFUL and SAD-”

Zim was on all fours and sounded like he was trying to pass a hairball.

“What a way to go,” Dib squeaked.

The snarlbeast watched them angrily. “You’ll see,” said the ghost. The snarlbeast started to glow and lift off the floor. The boy’s whiny, grating voice echoed through the basement. “You’ll see how sad it is.”

Dib sat up, rubbing tears of mirth out of his eyes. “Fuck that,” he said, giggling, and grabbed the salt.

\----------------------

They were still giggling a little as they walked home. Dib was carrying the disoriented snarlbeast.

"It was kind of fucked up, though," said Dib.

"Mmm, yes," said Zim.

They kept walking in silence for a bit. Then Dib said "AaAaAaAaAH!" under his breath and just like that they were both laughing again.

They came to the place where their paths split and stopped walking by some unspoken signal. They hardly seemed to realize they'd done so.

Zim cleared his throat. "ANYWAY," he said. "Now that you have DEFEATED your laundry foe, you can devote your ENTIRE attention to the PROTECTION of your PATHETIC PLANET!"

"Like I'll NEED my entire attention to stop you!" Dib taunted, grinning. "Whatever you build is probably going to BLOW UP before you get it out the door!"

"HA! That shows what YOU know, human! Next Friday will go down in URTH HISTORY as a day of DOOM and DESTRUCTION!"

"Just keep telling yourself that, Spaceboy!" Dib shouted. He was starting to walk down the street towards his house, but was turned backwards to keep facing Zim.

"I WILL, STUPID HUMAN!" Zim shouted back, doing the same.

"SPACE SCUM!"

"FREAK!"

"DUMBSHIT!"

"SMELLY EARTH-THING!"

"YOU'RE FUCKING STUPID!"

"SHUT THE SHIT YOUR MOUTH!"

They continued until they were both screaming themselves raw, unable to see each other and barely able to hear. And Dib was getting tired.

"GOODBYE!" he shouted, then stopped. Waited.

"YEAH, BYE!" came the distant response.

Dib rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little bit.

He reached his house and walked inside, gently scratching the snarlbeast behind the ears, then shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda feel like this chapter is shit but it's cool. It's all good.  
> Uhhh and that's all for Dibpression! Thank you for reading and commenting and stuff, it was really fun.  
> I, uh...try to prewrite these? So that I don't have to worry about, like, schedules and consistency and stuff, so it's gonna be a while. I have the next one outlined, but I haven't actually written any of it lmao.  
> Thanks for the Hits


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